“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.” Pete threw a hand up to block my death rays. “I figured this was bad news for everyone all around.”
“No,” I corrected. “What are you doin’ standin’ here in this library? In Clovis, New Mexico? And don’t say the words mentorin’ program because I don’t buy it. Andrew was accepted to many boardin’ schools, and nary a one came with a mentorin’ program attached. You and I both know that a rich school like yours could’ve easily just flown Andrew out to administer all these tests in California. Or y’all could’ve used an independent testin’ firm like all the rest.”
“We’re not like all the rest,” he countered.
“Maybe that’s what scares me so bad.”
Irritation momentarily pursed his lips. After a deep breath in, he tried again. “Kate, there is an Academy Mentoring Program. It even has an acronym—AMP.” I snorted at that one. “That is why I’m here. As cadets we can be pretty isolated at The Academy, so during senior year, the organization annually sends graduating cadets out to live amongst civilians and mentor a prospective cadet. It’s been part of our tradition for many years.”
I feigned a yawn to let him know I was bored. And to piss him off. The deepening hue across his cheekbones let me know it was working.
“The reason you haven’t heard about us is because we’re a very private, very exclusive organization,” Pete droned on as though nothing were amiss while I continued to give him the glaze eyes. “Therefore, only share info on a need-to-know basis. Since your brother is being considered, you are one of the few in the know. Most of America—and the world—will never even hear the words International Elite Academy.”
He was telling the truth, but I knew buried beneath that were stinky factoid nuggets about them he didn’t want me to nose out. “Why do I always get the feelin’ that you’re hidin’ somethin’?”
“Because you’re paranoid.”
I shot him a look darker than the navy of his tee.
“Look,” he sighed, “you’ve been through a lot lately, and I’m not just talking about this past week. I really only have the best intentions.” As if on command, his face softened, then his voice. “I know you’re having a hard time coming to terms with your brother leaving.”
“I’m not having a hard time comin’ to terms with it . . . because he’s not leavin’!” The volume of my voice rose in direct proportion to his decrease. “And I know there’s more to it—I can just feel it!”
“Well I’m sorry to disappoint you, Kate, but you’re wrong.”
“You’re wrong!” I threw back at him.
Pete puffed out some aggravation, swiped a hand over his mouth. “Look, I did actually come here for a purpose, and it wasn’t to argue with you.”
“You’ve already lobbed your little grenade, so you can march along now, Cadet Davenport.”
“There’s more bad news I’m afraid . . .”
“Is there any other kind?”
Pete gave me a strange, sad smile.
“Just tell me,” I sighed.
“Your father informed me I wasn’t supposed to share test scores with you. Or to discuss the mentoring sessions . . . or anything to do with The Academy in general.” His words came as soft as his eyes now, but the impact hit like exploding shrapnel. “He wants to be the only one privy to Andy’s info. That’s why your father is picking him up this afternoon—we have the preliminary test results ready to go over. I’m sorry . . . I know this comes as a shock to you.”
My face fell, right along with the last of my power points—right on the industrial carpet. Mortally wounded, I plunked down on the stepstool and buried my face in my hands.
“I’m really sorry, Kate—”
I felt a hand on my shoulder and quit feeling sorry for myself long enough to shrug it off.
“—I didn’t want to mention it before, knowing it was a touchy subject, but your father told me about your mother. How she died in a state of paranoia. It all makes sense now . . . this-this obsession with The Academy being some kind of ruthless organization out to get you. That’s just ridiculous. It’s considered by every outside authority to be the most prestigious academic and military institution in the world.”
Pete stooped down and softly touched my arm. “Your mother put that in your head,” he whispered. “But she was sick, Kate . . . your father told me. You’re a smart girl. I know you’ll come to your senses and realize that soon. In the meantime, I agree with your father. It’s probably best if you take a step back—allow Andy to take advantage of this golden opportunity being offered to him.” He sounded like a freaking psychoanalyst one minute, and an IEA robot regurgitating bullet points from the brochure the next.
Who is he?
My head snapped up. “Andrew, or just Drew, if you must.”
“What?”
My feet stomped floor, anger rising up through the shock. “He hates the name Andy, FYI.” Of all the things I could say in that moment, I don’t know why I chose that.
“He never told me that.”
“Well, he does.”
Pete expelled some air. “Kate, I can see this conversation is going nowhere good. I highly suggest you go home and rest. You’re overwrought and not thinking clearly. Sleep deprivation makes even the sanest of people irrational—it’s even been known to cause hallucinations.”
“Really?” I said, a switch inside me flipping on. “Am I hallucinatingyou? . . . You have always seemed too good to be true. How about when you and Terminator popped up in the middle of the night—on a deserted street—to kidnap me? Did I hallucinate that, too?”
“You mean when we rescued you from a pit bull and a pedophile?” he countered. “We’ve already gone over that.”
“Oh right.” I curled angry finger-quotes. “‘The big coincidence.’”
Pete cupped my shoulders, using the full force of his male magnetism. “Kate, you’re understandably angry right now. I get that. But we can agree to disagree for the time being, can’t we?” He began rubbing circles like he was trying to thaw me out (or to work his magic into my arms). But boy was I feeling both Arctic cold and immune to his charms at the moment.
“This in no way changes the status of our friendship—at least in my book.” Pete must’ve taken my silence for assent, because he pulled me to him. (I took that for him being an arrogant ass.) “I’m afraid our afternoon of fun is spoiled for the time being though,” he said, using the kind of voice one would when he had a deep, underlying assumption of always getting his own way.
“Where’s Daddy pickin’ Andrew up today?”
He seemed puzzled by my innocuous, out-of-left-field question, but also, like, relieved I wasn’t pitching a fit. “From The Learning Center, why?”
The bell rang at the same time I said, “No reason.”
He tightened me into a hug that I allowed. One more time. I gave myself exactly a second. One single second to relive the fantasy, to breathe him in, to bask in his glow, feel the male perfection of his body.